Help Me
by FlonkertonChamp1
Summary: Pregnancy is supposed to be wonderful and exciting. For Grace, it's definitely not. Chapter titles are from The Beatles' song "Help!"
1. Won't You Please, Please Help Me?

***WARNING*** **This story is about Hyperemesis Gravidarum, or severe nausea and vomiting in pregnancy. If reading about vomit freaks you out, don't read this.**

* * *

They'd started out excited. When Grace's case of food poisoning turned out to be a baby, she and Wayne were elated. The pregnancy was a complete surprise, but they were thrilled nonetheless.

But their excitement quickly faded. Grace's morning sickness was relentless; it lasted all day, and she could hardly eat or drink anything. Her doctor and all the websites and books she read all assured her that she'd feel better by the second trimester. Her mother offered her sympathies over the phone; she'd had a rough first few months when she was pregnant with Grace, but reassured her that she had felt better at around twelve weeks.

But two months later, Grace's symptoms had still not let up. If anything, she was getting worse. She had gone on medical leave from work six weeks prior, as she simply could not leave the house when she was vomiting up to thirty times a day.

Her doctor had put her on some anti-nausea medication, but it did little to help her keep food down. All it afforded her was the ability to sleep in between episodes. She'd lost twenty pounds; despite the growing baby inside her, her previously flat stomach was now concave. She looked like a starving child, rather than a pregnant woman.

She'd been hospitalized twice for dehydration. Each time, her doctor would run fluids, medication, and multi-vitamins through an IV, keep her overnight for observation, and then send her home the next morning with orders to stay on her saltines and ginger tea diet.

She was becoming more and more discouraged. Words from various doctors haunted her as they echoed in her head:

_"Most women get better after the first trimester. It shouldn't be too much longer before that happens."_

_"You've only had a milkshake? Why would you eat something so unhealthy?"_

_"Ginger should bring some relief. It shouldn't burn if you're doing it right."_

_"I'm going to refer you to a psychiatrist; there's definitely some mental problems happening here."_

_"If you really wanted this baby you'd stop vomiting."_

_"I think we should consider terminating this pregnancy." _

One night, Wayne awoke at 2 AM as Grace rushed to the bathroom. He stood outside the closed door, helplessly listening as she was sick yet again. When he heard the toilet flush, he tapped gently on the door.

"Grace, sweetie, do you need anything?" He received no reply. He knocked again. "Grace?" Silence. He opened the door and peeked in.

His heart sank at the sight of Grace slumped against the toilet, her head on her arm as she stared into space. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken, dark circles underneath. Her lips were cracked, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She looked up and met his eyes.

"Wayne," she whimpered. "I can't do this anymore. I can't. Why is this happening?" She gagged again, and began to retch into the toilet. She shook as she heaved, but nothing came out. Her stomach was completely empty. She finished gagging and pounded her fist on the toilet seat in frustration.

"That's it," Wayne said sharply. "We're going to the hospital."

"No!" Grace replied, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not going back there just for them to tell me it's all in my head! I won't!" Wayne knelt down next to her.

"Grace, please baby," he begged. "We have to. You're dehydrated, you're malnourished… I'm really scared, Grace. I can't keep watching as you fade away. We'll go to a different hospital this time. Any hospital. We'll see new doctors." Grace closed her eyes and nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

Wayne kissed her forehead and stood up. He walked hurriedly into their room and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He grabbed his wallet and Grace's purse, and a few plastic bags and quickly went out and threw them in the car. He returned and strode into the bathroom, scooped Grace up off the floor and carried her to the car.

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Author's Note: Learn more about HG at **helpher dot org** (I think it's ridiculous we can't put website URLs here...)

Author's Note part deux: This story was inspired by a dear friend, who suffered from HG with all 6 (!) of her pregnancies. The end result is 6 amazing girls, ages 15, 12, 10, 5, 3, and 19 months. But it was quite the rough road. She didn't receive an actual diagnosis until her 4th pregnancy; even when she was down to 83 pounds at four months along in her 3rd pregnancy, she was told that it was all in her head. All of her girls are healthy, but she sustained permanent organ damage from the constant dehydration. You can read more about her story here: **theleakyboob dot com/2012/12/hyperemesis-gravidarum-a-princess-and-regular-ol-me-kate-middleton-and-i-have-something-in-common/**

And if you are so inclined, watch the videos of the home birth of her 6th baby! (NSFW; there is some breast nudity, and you can see between her legs at a few points, but nothing close-up or graphic) - **theleakyboob dot com/2012/06/ordinary-miracle-the-labor-and-home-birth-of-sugarbaby-april-19-2012/**


	2. Help Me If You Can, I'm Feeling Down

An hour later, Wayne was lying spooned up behind Grace in her hospital bed, gently rubbing her arm as she dozed. Rather than going to the hospital where Grace's regular OB practiced, they'd driven a little farther to a hospital in South Sacramento. Grace had recalled having a good experience there when she'd burned herself while volunteering at a soup kitchen a few years back.

Upon arrival, she'd been started on IV fluids and given medication. The ER physician drew blood and did an ultrasound, proclaiming that the baby looked to be doing fine, and then told them that he would ask a doctor from Obstetrics to come down for a consultation.

Wayne had nearly drifted off himself when there was a soft knock on the door. A young woman wearing a white coat and a kind smile peeked in.

"Grace Rigsby?"

Wayne nodded and got out of the bed, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm her husband, Wayne."

"I'm Emily Martin," the doctor replied, shaking his hand. "I'm the on-call OB. So, looking through Grace's chart, she's having a really rough pregnancy?"

"Yeah. She's just… she's lost twenty pounds in fourteen weeks, and she just can't stop throwing up. I don't know what else to do," he said, fighting back tears.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of her," Dr. Martin reassured him. Wayne sat down next to Grace and shook her gently.

"Grace, baby," he said softly. "Wake up, the doctor's here." Grace slowly opened her eyes. Dr. Martin pulled up a stool and sat down next to Grace's bed.

"Hi, Grace, I'm Dr. Martin," she said. "Wayne's telling me that you're having really bad nausea and vomiting. How are you feeling right now?"

Grace rubbed her eyes as Wayne raised the bed so she was semi-reclined. "Um… a little better. The fluids and medications are helping, but I still feel awful." Dr. Martin nodded and wrote something in her chart.

"And how has your regular OB been treating this?"

"She's put me on Zofran, but I throw it up most days. She keeps telling me ginger and saltines should help, but both hurt coming back up. She told me that I should be feeling better by the second trimester, but if anything, I'm getting worse." Dr. Martin handed her a tissue and Grace dabbed at the tears running down her face.

"I see," the doctor replied, writing some more in her chart. "I'm sorry you're having such a rough time. Oftentimes it does go away, but for some women, HG persists throughout the entire pregnancy."

Grace regarded her with confusion. "HG?"

"Hyperemesis Gravidarum," the doctor replied, looking up from the chart.

"What's that?"

"That's what you have." Grace's jaw dropped.

"There's a _name_ for it?!" she gasped. Dr. Martin's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Your doctor didn't diagnose you with it?" Grace shook her head. "Oh, honey," the doctor sighed. "Yes, you have a condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum. It causes severe nausea and vomiting in pregnancy."

"What… I…" Grace spluttered. "Dr. Kirkland said it was just bad morning sickness! She said it's all in my head!"

"Oh, Grace, I'm so sorry. I'm outraged that your doctor hasn't been treating you more aggressively. It is _not_ all in your head. HG is relatively uncommon, but it is _very_ real."

"Can it be cured?" Wayne asked hopefully. Dr. Martin shook her head.

"No, there's not a cure. It'll go away after the baby is born, but that won't be for another six months or so. It can be managed, though." She added another notation to the chart. "Grace, I'm going to admit you for a few days, to properly hydrate you. I'm also going to increase your dosage of Zofran, and we'll go from there to figure out the best treatment plan for you."

"I don't know," Grace said hesitantly. "Dr. Kirkland said that higher doses can cause problems with the baby. I don't want to take any risks." Dr. Martin set the chart down on the bed and looked Grace right in the eyes.

"First of all Grace, I don't want you to see this Dr. Kirkland anymore," she began gently. "If you're willing, I want to take over your case, and see you throughout your pregnancy.

"But you're right," she continued. "There are risks. There are always risks attached to any medication. But Grace, if this continues the way it's been going, you _and_ your baby are at risk for complications. Your blood tests show that your kidneys aren't functioning properly, and your body can't nourish your baby if you can't take in nutrients. The risk of severe complications for you and the baby is much higher than the risks associated with Zofran."

"Grace, please," Wayne begged, taking her hand. "Please do this. I couldn't bear to have anything happen to you or the baby."

Grace looked back and forth between Wayne and Dr. Martin, and then nodded slowly.

"Okay," she said quietly. Wayne squeezed her hand and Dr. Martin smiled.

"Alright," she said as she stood, patting Grace's leg. "I'll get started on your admission paperwork, and then we'll get you upstairs. I won't lie to you, Grace… You've got a rough six months ahead of you. But I'm going to do everything I can to make it easier.

"First and foremost is support. I'm going to get you some more information about HG, and a list of groups of other women who have experienced the same thing. Wayne, I can tell that you're already a great support to her. Keep doing what you're doing. And both of you, enlist in the help from others. Don't feel like you need to go at this alone. If someone offers to bring a meal, or do some laundry, take them up on it." She moved toward the door.

"Hang in there, Grace. We'll get you upstairs within an hour." She gave them a last reassuring smile and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Grace lay back in the bed and met Wayne's eyes.

"Wayne…" she sighed. "I don't want to be in the hospital."

"I know you don't. But Grace, this is a good thing. We have a name for it. You have a doctor who believes you and is going to help."

"I just… I don't think I can do this." Wayne leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"You can," he whispered. "And I'm going to help you. Okay?" Grace nodded.

"Okay."


End file.
